by Penny Wylder
“I’m sure, Emma,” he says.
Frustration grips my stomach, and I stand quickly. I feel like there’s so much energy in my body that I can’t hold onto it all, and I know a really easy way to get rid of some of it, but I’m not allowed to touch myself. Not like that. I walk over to Matthew’s desk, and place myself provocatively over the edge of it. “You know, I’ve always had a fantasy about being fucked on a desk.”
His voice is filled with amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.” But he doesn’t move.
“Why aren’t you doing anything with me?”
“Because it’s my decision. I can use you or play with you as I like. Or not. But if you ask nicely, I’ll consider it.”
Anger spikes through me, and my hand lashes out and knocks over a cup of pens. They clatter onto the desk and then onto the floor. Matthew’s head whips around, and he sees me and he sees the pens. He sets aside the papers and stands. “Come here.”
I do, even though I’m nervous. Because he doesn’t look happy. His face is cold, stern, and I don’t remember seeing his face like this since I’ve been with him. Matthew crosses his arms. “Did you do that on purpose?”
I shrug.
“Verbal answers.”
“Kind of. It was instinct.”
“Why?”
I force out a breath. “Because I’ve been turned on all day and I didn’t come here just to sit around and do nothing.”
He nods slowly. “Strip.”
My blood freezes. “What?”
“Strip. Now. Until I say otherwise you’ve lost the privilege to wear clothes.”
I look down at the floor, shame filling me up to the brim. Not because I’m currently taking off my bra and handing it to him, but because I can feel his disappointment like it’s touching my skin. I push the boy shorts off my hips and let them pool around my feet. Then I hand them to him, but I still can’t meet his eyes.
“You will go to the playroom and you will kneel. And you will wait.”
“How long?”
There’s a beat of silence before he answers. “Until I’m ready. As your Dom, it is my responsibility to make sure your behavior and manners are corrected, but also that I never do so while I’m angry or frustrated. So you will wait until I am ready, and then you will receive your punishment.”
I swallow, finally meeting his eyes. He raises his eyebrows and I drop them again. “Yes, Sir.”
Thankfully, I don’t run into anyone on the way to the playroom. Even if the staff are prepared, I am not prepared to face one of them while completely naked. Despite the shiver of fear running down my spine, my arousal hasn’t dimmed in the slightest.
Maybe there’s a possibility that he’ll change his mind and fuck me instead of punishing me. There’s the tiniest whisper of a thought—that maybe I’ll like the punishment. That maybe the reason I’m still aroused is that I want this. But that…can’t possibly be true.
The playroom seems impossibly big when I enter it. Alone with the equipment, this seems entirely overwhelming. I find a spot in the middle of the room where there’s an empty spot of carpet, and I kneel. I remember his words from this morning, and I know that he’s going to see how wet I am the moment he walks in. God help me.
I’m honestly not sure how much time passes between when I kneel and when Matthew enters the room. I can’t see a clock, but the setting sun fades and the sky grows dark. When I finally hear his footsteps, my gut tightens with anticipation and fear. His shadow falls across me, and I fight the urge to look up.
“Hands,” he says evenly.
I lift them and he buckles the cuffs onto them and clips them together. He circles behind me and has me rise onto my knees as he does the same with my ankles. Lifting me to my feet, he carries me like I weigh nothing and settles us into the same chair we occupied yesterday.
“Do you understand why I’m punishing you?”
“I knocked over the cup.”
He shakes his head. “No. Trust is the most important thing in a Dom/sub relationship, but respect is almost equally important. If you have a problem you want to discuss with me, I’m willing to talk about it, but you don’t knock things over or act out. I’m punishing you so that you understand and remember that. The discipline aspect of this dynamic helps both parties purge their emotions and move forward—hopefully without the same mistakes.”
I hate, hate how much that makes sense. But it does make sense, and acceptance is swift and calming. “What are you going to do to me?”
And just like that, Matthew has me flipped over his knee. “I’m going to spank you. I’m not going to tell you how many times, because part of this lesson is that you need to trust my decisions as your Dom. And also because you need to accept my decisions. As the leader, I take responsibility, and you need to believe that I know what’s best and am acting accordingly.”
His hand smooths over my ass, and I shudder as goosebumps fly up my spine. “And after every stroke, you will say ‘Thank you, Sir.’”
“I’m thanking you for this?”
“You are,” he says, “for taking the time to correct your actions and invest in this relationship, even though you’re fighting it like hell.” Matthew sighs. “I don’t enjoy handing out punishment. I prefer spanking to be fun, sexy, and pleasurable. This will not be. You have permission to scream, cry, whatever you like.”
Fire burns across my ass and I cry out, realizing that it’s started. It hurts more than I thought it would, even though his hand is rubbing the sting away. I think I was momentarily blind, and when I blink open my eyes again, a see my hands are balled into fists, straining at the cuffs. “I’m waiting,” he says softly.
“Thank you, Sir.” I say the words even though I don’t mean them.
Another blow. This one in a different place than the last. It burns like wildfire and my cry is louder this time. I grit my teeth and grind out the words, “Thank you, Sir.”
Again his hand falls, on the skin at the top of my waist and my eyes burn. “Thank you, Sir.”
We sink into a rhythm, his blows landing slow and steady, with enough time for me to absorb the impact and the pain and work my voice through the thanks, and then again, and again. I don’t know how many times, it ceases to matter. Shame and embarrassment well up in me until my eyes burn, and I’m fighting the tears. I know he can hear it in my voice, but he doesn’t stop.
Just like he said, there’s nothing in the blows of his hand that’s angry. If anything, I feel his reluctance as one hand alternately rubs my back and holds me still as he spanks me. If I had just been good this wouldn’t have happened. I knew that knocking over that stupid cup of pens would make him angry and I did it anyway. A tear slips out of my eye and I choke on my thanks, but I get it out. Even if it’s more sob than words, I get it out.
There’s a voice in my head now—not Matthew’s—and it’s saying things that I’ve heard before. Why aren’t you ever good like other girls? I swear, any other girl would appreciate what I’m trying to do. I don’t know why you think you know better than I do—I know what’s best for you.
Another blow, and I can only gasp, sobs wracking my body now. “Thank you, Sir.” But I’m not even aware, because his voice is echoing in my head. You never listen. You never learn. If you’re not going to, I’ll find someone who will. Someone who will listen and be good for me.
Pain explodes through my skin, and I can’t hold it back anymore. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “I’ll be good. I will, please don’t leave.”
“Last ones, Emma.” Quick, fiery slaps to each side of my ass and one blow across them that makes me cry even harder. My chest aches just like it did that day, and I know that I’m not going to come back from it this time. “Please don’t leave,” I say through my tears. “Please don’t leave. I promise I’ll listen. I’ll be good.”
I’m in Matthew’s arms and I cling to him. I can’t control my breathing, and it feels like the sobs are being ripped from my chest and I don’t think I could stop
even if I tried. I don’t have enough energy to try. He lays me down, and pulls me closer to his chest, and pulls a blanket over our bodies. He doesn’t try to stop me, doesn’t try to find out why, doesn’t do anything but hold me. And I cry until I don’t feel like I can anymore, and then a little bit more.
I feel him wiping the tears from my cheeks as I fade into sleep.
Twelve
When I open my eyes I feel clear. There’s no grogginess, I just come into awareness, and slowly, the memory of what happened comes back.
I’m in a room that I don’t recognize, but is clearly a bedroom. It’s decorated in shades of deep blue, with dark wood and a simplicity that reminds me of Matthew. This has to be his private room. I didn’t see it on the tour of the house, and he must have carried me here after I lost it in the play room. Lamps are casting soft and clear light through the room. It’s dark outside, but I don’t think that much time has passed. A glance at the clock confirms that it’s not that late.
I hear a sound and a door to my left opens to reveal Matthew in nothing but boxer briefs. If I didn’t know what he looked like without those, I think this would be my favorite view. “You’re awake,” he says, a soft smile playing on his lips.
He slides under the blankets of his bed with me, and I gasp as his skin touches mine. I’m still naked, cuffs still gracing my wrists and ankles. “I don’t know what happened,” I say. “I don’t know where that came from.”
Reaching out, Matthew runs a hand through my hair. The gesture is soothing, and I arch into it. I love it when people play with my hair. It’s been so long since someone did it that I’d all but forgotten how good it feels. No wonder I like it when he guides me using his fingers in my hair. He smiles, repeating the movement, and my eyes almost flutter closed. He could do that for hours and I’d be happy. “Believe it or not, what happened isn’t all that uncommon. Especially with someone as new to submission as you are.”
“What was it? It felt…like I was going crazy.”
“Do you remember what you said?” he asks, curiosity lighting his eyes.
I think carefully. I remember the pain and the ache in my chest and crying harder than I think I ever have, but…no words. “No.”
“At the end you were saying that you were sorry. You promised you would listen, and that you would be good. You asked me not to leave.” I stiffen, and I try to pull away from him, to create space between our bodies, but he holds me close. “Breathe, Emma,” he says, and I pull in a shuddering breath.
“Before we go any further, let me assure you that I am not leaving. I’m going to stay right here all night. You’re not alone.”
Those words comfort the irrational panic that I’m feeling. It doesn’t make sense. That was…almost four years ago now. I can’t possibly be still affected by that. By him.
“Who left you?”
I look up into Matthew’s eyes, those gorgeous green eyes that attracted me to him in the first place. I don’t see anger or judgement there. I see…safety. I clear my throat, and it feels rough from my crying earlier. “Jeremy.”
Matthew nods. “You loved him?”
“Yes.” It comes out a whisper. “I loved him more than I thought was possible. But—” I break off, considering my words carefully, “I know he wasn’t a good guy. He didn’t hit me or anything, but he never really seemed happy with me.” I laugh, even though nothing about it is funny. “It took me a long time to even realize that.”
“Let me guess,” Matthew says gently. “He told you that you never listened to him.” He catches the look on my face and drags his fingers through my hair again. “I heard what you were saying. It’s not a far leap.”
I nod. “When he left, he told me that since I wasn’t going to, he’d find someone that would ‘listen and be good for him.’ I don’t know what it was, what I could have done differently to make him happy. I thought I’d tried everything—”
“Emma,” he says, and his voice has that low current of power. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing, do you understand me?”
I bite my lip, nodding. I understand that he thinks that, but he wasn’t there.
“You don’t believe me, do you.” Not a question.
“No, Sir.”
He closes his eyes, “And this whole time when I’ve been asking you to trust me to know what’s best for you, you’ve been reminded of him.”
“I honestly hadn’t thought of it until last night. Not consciously, anyway.”
Matthew leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. Slow at first, then deeper, stronger. A flash of heat sears through me and I remember that I’m naked and that he’s almost naked and the ways that could be fun. “I’m not surprised you’re so resistant to the idea of being submissive. The last man you trusted with that kind of power didn’t ask for it. He took it from you, made you feel small and helpless, and then let you fall when you needed him most.”
Unexpected tears spring into my eyes, and I blink them away. I think I’ve already cried enough. Hell, I’m not even sure how I have water left in my body.
“Submission doesn’t make you weak, Emma. It makes you strong. A true Dom doesn’t take power unless it is offered. Doms can’t exist without the power the submissive gives them. That’s why it’s so precious, and why anyone with an ounce of sense in their head would never, ever take it for granted.”
“It makes sense, and it doesn’t,” I say, that familiar frustration rising. “On the one hand I can understand, and the other, why would I do that? Why would I voluntarily give power to someone else? Especially when it can make me feel like that.”
“It can seem complicated,” he admits. “There are a hundred reasons to explain how and why the dynamic works with some people and doesn’t with others. And it also can be incredibly simple: it can just be something you need.”
“Why?”
“Why do people have favorite flavors? Why do some people need to have their office organized in order to function and some like it like a bomb just went off? Why are some people gay and some people straight? Why do I feel most satisfied when someone leans on me? When she lets me decide for her and trusts me to protect her?” He gently taps my forehead with a finger. “It goes deeper than we know. It’s a part of who some people are. There doesn’t always have to be a reason.”
“And you believe, truly believe, that I’m one of those people.”
“I do.”
I readjust myself, trying to look more resolved. “And what if I am, and I still choose to walk away and let this not be who I am?”
Matthew hesitates. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do that. “You can,” he says. “That’s your choice. And you’ll be just fine. Do I think that you be happier and more satisfied in a D/s relationship? Yes. But this is not a life or death thing, and it is yours to choose. No one can take that away from you,” he says quietly.
“What if I told you that I need to think about that, but I think I’m done talking for tonight.”
A slow smile spreads across his face and his hand runs through my hair, tightening, holding my head still. “I’d tell you that as your Dom, I decide when we’re done talking. But because you’ve been very good and honest and vulnerable, I think you should be rewarded.”
He flips the covers back, exposing my body. My nipples go hard with the sudden chill. He flips me onto my stomach with that ease that always amazes me, and then my ass is in the air and I try to readjust myself, but my arm won’t move. He’s attached my wrist to my ankle while I wasn’t looking, and now the other one. “Matthew?” I ask, and he makes a low sound in his throat. “That’s not my name right now. Try again.”
“Sir, why?”
“I’m rewarding you,” he says. “Which means you get to have at least one orgasm. That does not mean I’m rewarding you with vanilla sex. It’s perfectly clear to me that you respond on a deep level when you’re restrained,” he whispers against the skin of my neck, “and while I have you here I’m going to take every opportunity to show you
that.”
I have no leverage, my face against a pillow and my ass in the air because of the way my limbs are locked. It’s like I’m being offered to him on a platter, and it makes me shudder. I’m still unsure why I’m attracted to this, but for tonight, I know what he can do to me with his mouth and his body, and I’m going to let him. I want him to make me feel good. For tonight it doesn’t have to be about the bet, it can just be about the pleasure of it all.
His hands slide down my ass and I gasp, sensitive to the touch and sore. Fingers drift closer to my asshole, and I tense. He’s not going to do that, is he? We didn’t talk about that. But he just brushes his finger across it, and I shiver. “If we have more time together, I’d like to explore this. Maybe lock you in a chastity belt for a while so that this is the only way I can take you.”
“What?” I breathe, unable to help the wave of arousal that falls unexpectedly over me. Then his tongue is there, grazing my ass, feeling so wrong and so right, and my pussy clenches, dampening and giving away the fact that I’ve gone from zero to sixty in approximately no seconds flat. His mouth moves lower, tasting my arousal, and I arch myself into him. He let’s go, spanking me lightly. “Naughty girl, trying to take more than I give you.”
Even though it’s light, the pain of his hand spreads. I’m going to be sore tomorrow. As he continues to tease me, the pain disappears, morphing and blending with the pleasure coiling in my gut and sharpening it. Matthew drags a finger down my spine. “I’m not going to be gentle,” he says. “I’m going to take you, and take my pleasure. Once I’m finished, you’ll get your reward.”
There’s some kind of witty response in my brain, but I don’t get to say it. It flies right out of my head as he slides into me in one sure stroke. Oh god, this angle takes him deeper than before, and I’m stretched full of him. The tip of him brushes that place deep inside that almost no one is able to reach and it has me biting my lip. Matthew’s palms are on my ass, and he pinches my skin, sending little eddies of pain through me, contrasting with the pleasure of his cock and making it more acute.